The Lady of the Keep
by WriterKos
Summary: Ducky is a man full of stories. What would he do, if Mystery came personally to greet him? Written for the NFA Ducky, Man of Mystery Challenge and NFA Paranormal Challenge.
1. Sunset

The Lady of the Keep

SUNSET

Several years ago, in a isle of Skye, Scotland…

Fiddle music filled the air, filling the sunset mist with its mellow notes. The fiddler's fingers deftly fell on the strings, bringing forth a melody as old as time, which was passed from one generation to the next. There was no music sheet from which he could guide himself, as he played by heart, a melody that was imprinted in his very soul since the first time he heard his father playing it as he was a little lad.

The sound of the fiddle ruled over the murmur of the talks and laughter in the little pub in the small Isle of Skye, in the North of Scotland. Sometimes, laughter would erupt from one of the several tables, which were covered with delicious bits of fish and other fresh produce brought by the farmers or fishers from the isle.

The atmosphere was jolly, as it was summer, and the long months of winter had given a rest to the farmers and fishers. The moors had flourished, and everywhere the colors of flowers and plants were simply enhanced by the sun shining during the longer days of summer.

Young Donald Mallard, Medical student from Edinburgh University, had been invited by his friend, James McTavish, to a weekend of beer and music and party on the small island of Skye, as they would the following day enjoy the hospitality of the McTavishes during the Highlander Games in a neighboring village.

So, during that lovely summer night, they were just downing some pints and enjoying the vivacious music from the local musicians.

"He's really good," commented Donald, watching the fiddler play on the improvised stage.

"He's been playing here since I was a little lad, and Pa would bring me to the pub to seat while he would talk business to his friends," Jamie raises his pint, and takes a long gulp. He leaves the pint on the table with a thump, and waves for the waiter to bring another one. Jamie's eyes start following two lassies who just entered the pub, and walk to stand by the bar.

"Hey, Don, watch this," Jamie stands up, a little unsteady on his feet, as he had already drunk two full pints, and marches under Donald's careful watch to the ladies. He approaches them with care, stands behind the tallest one, a pretty little thing in a simple blue summer dress and with long blond her rolling in curls down her back. He orders another drink, and just smiles at the ladies, and tries to start a conversation.

Donald just watches his friend's smooth way with the ladies, and he has to shake his head when, after some minutes talking with the tall blonde, Jamie invites her to dance, and brings her to the middle of the dance floor, where the fiddler's music entice people to laugh and dance with the rhythm of the highlands.

Donald looks back at the bar, and the blonde's friend is alone, standing by the bar. Being the gentleman he was, he slowly leaves his table and goes across the sea of people dancing and laughing, trying to reach her.

She's not an Amazon like her friend, she probably barely reached his shoulder. However, her prim flowered summer dress gave hints of a young body underneath, with all the curves in their correct places, and the smile on her face gave hint of the enthusiasm only the youth could show before the chance of music and dancing. She was tapping her left foot on the floor, with the rhythm, and would throw her head back with laughter as her friend dances by her.

"Would you like to dance?" Donald asks as soon as he is standing besides the young lady, and she turns to him, smiling, and Donald feels his hands sweating as her gorgeous green eyes turn to him.

"Excuse me?" she shouts over the noise of the fiddler and the loud conversation inside the pub.

"I've asked," he leans over her so he can speak closer to her ear, and he has to move her black raven hair so he can speak, "if you would you like to dance?"

She bites her lip, and Donald's eyes are attracted to her unconscious seductive action, "but I don't know how!" she shouts back at him, "I've never danced to this type of music before!"

Donald smiles, and stretches out his hand to this raven beauty, "It's not difficult at all, I'll teach you." She still looks uncertain, and she blinks slowly at this gallant Scot who is inviting her to dance. She glances at her friend, who is spinning and laughing so much with her dance partner, and looks back at the stranger, and smiles, "don't complain if I step on your toes."

She puts her hand on his, and Donald smiles, "I promise I won't."

They rush to the dance floor and soon they are spinning, their feet tapping the linoleum floor with the beat brought by the fiddler.

After some backbreaking dances, both couples return to their table, and Jamie orders more pints to come, so they can drench their thirst.

"So, ladies, I'm Jamie McTavish, and this is my buddy, Donald Mallard, at your service," the two ladies laugh, "if you are looking for entertaining and a good time, you found the right company for it." He looks at the blonde, and leans towards her, "tell me everything, anything about you, I'm all ears, my lady."

Donald shakes his head at his friend's boldness, and feels the touch of a soft hand on top of his. He looks at the raven girl, who is smiling at him, "tell me Donald, what brings you to Kyleakyn?"

He tells her then. He was on his holidays from Med school, he was enjoying being able to study how to save lives immensely, and his dreams of travelling the world, seeing different people and places, and using his gifts to bring healing to those in need. She, in turn, tells him that she's a nurse, from London, who somehow was transferred to work for only one year in one of the village hospitals here in the Highlands. Her friend had relatives in a neighboring village, so they decided to come to the village of Kyleakyn to enjoy the Friday night music.

Jamie is whispering in the blonde's ear, and she is smiling at him. Finally he stands up, and says, "we'll be back," guides the blonde back to the dance floor, as the fiddler plays a more romantic song, and they start dancing the mellow tune together.

Donald turns to the beauty by his side, and smiles, "Would you like to take a walk? The temperature is very agreeable and it would be a shame if we did not enjoy the moonlight." She smiles, shyly, and they both leave the pub, where the fiddler still plays a haunting song of love lost, but not forgotten.


	2. Evening

EVENING

They walk out of the pub, and she giggles a little as she steps out in the fresh night air. The night sky still had some faint traces of pink and red, giving the impression of it being a huge canvas, painted with broad strokes with thousand colors. The night air is a little bit cold, as the warmth of the day left with the sun, so the young lady shivers, and runs her hands over her arms, and hastily closes her faint summer jacket over her summer dress.

Donald Mallard, as he sees her discomfort, immediately takes his jacket and covers her shoulders with it, and she smiles gladly at his gallant act. They walk down the stairs for the beach, where several fishing boats are tied down for the night, just waiting for the night to end to leave the safety of the harbor and start another day in the open sea.

"Tell me Annie," he asks, as they walk side by side on the fisherman's beach, "how do you like my bonnie Scotland?"

She smiles, and burrows in his jacket, trying to protect herself from the cold breeze, "it is fascinating, so full of mystery and stories, the castles are so amazing. I lived my whole life in London, and the only castle we've ever visited was Buckingham Palace, but only when there was some festivity there. Here, you live and visit and breathe history, that's so exciting!"

Donald smiles at her excitement, "indeed, my dear, here, the past is never too far to be forgotten, and the present," he turns to her, and takes her hands on his, "is too precious to not be enjoyed fully, in its totality, as we live through it."

She takes a step closer to him, and Donald feels himself drowning on her mischievous green eyes, "do you know that even here, in Kyleakyn, they have their own castle ruin and ghost story?"

Donald takes a step closer to her, and feels himself smiling at her pixie ways, "no, would you like to tell me?"

She throws her head back, and her raven hair flows over her back, and Donald is hypnotized by her beauty. She touches one small hand over his chest, and leans over to him, silently asking him to lean down towards her, so she may whisper to his ear, "I won't tell you," she whispers, her breath touching his ear and making him shiver, "I'll show you."

She takes his hand in hers, and looking him in the eye, starts guiding him away from the beach, towards the main street of the village. They cross a small bridge, underneath which a small river runs towards the bay, and they walk down the road towards the end of the village.

The night is filled with the sound of frogs and other night creatures, and the soft whisper of the wind on the leaves of the trees. The street is quiet; no soul can be seen walking on it, as most villagers were either in bed sleeping for the next day at work, in the sea, or in the pub.

Once they reach the end of the street, there is a small dark path leading to the woods. Donald hesitates, but she turns to him, and smiles. "I've visited the ruins several times these days, I know the way in the dark, it's just ten minutes away."

"I don't know, maybe we should go back," Donald says, looking at the dark path through the woods, which the full moon could not fully illuminate.

"Where is your sense of adventure, Donald?" she asks, and takes his hand and start leading him through the mossy path, "the night is young, the moon is full, the summer is just beginning, and it seems it will last forever," she stops and turns to him, "let's just seize the day, or," she leans to him, touches his cold lips with hers, in a brief kiss, "in our case, seize the night."

After some minutes walking on the path, going round a small bay, surrounded by purple heather flowers, they start climbing a small hill, towards ghostly stone ruins, illuminated by the full moon.

They reach the top, and Annie releases Donald's hand, and approaches the ruin with sure feet. It must have been a magnificent construction, back in the day, but today only two thick stone walls rise, alone, on top of the hill.

The night sounds dimmed a little, and the moonlight sky gave a supernatural feeling to the place. As Donald walked towards the ruins, it was almost as if he was stepping in another time, another place, and if he turned to one side, he might still see the knights getting ready for battle, and the servants on their daily toil, and on the top of the ruin, the lady of the keep, just watching him approach the grounds of her dominium.

"Come Donnie!" shouts Annie, as she moves one stone aside, and unveils a picnic basket, and a small battered blanket. She walks to the middle of the ruin, and lies the blanket on the grassy floor, and sits down. As Donald sits down beside her, she starts taking fruits from the basket, and gives him one glass, and brings a bottle of some type of drink out of the basket and pours some to Donald to taste.

He approaches the fragrant drink to his nose, and smells its rich bouquet. It smells like wild berries and herbs, mixed with the strong scent of sherry.

"What is this?" he asks, still smelling the drink, without tasting it.

"It's an old family recipe, my grandma would collect herbs and berries and mix them with very good sherry, and give us a tiny bit whenever we visited her," Annie smiles at him, as she pours some for herself, and takes a taste, keeping it in her mouth a little so she may appreciate fully the richness of the berries in it, "come on, it's delicious."

Donald sees her drinking it, and takes a sip. It is indeed, very sweet but very delicious. He takes another sip, all the time watching her taking a piece of homemade bread, and putting a generous amount of handmade jelly on it.

She offers it to him, and he gladly takes it, and starts eating. She makes another piece of bread for herself, and they eat in silence for some minutes.

A crow sings, not very far away, and both look into the direction the sound came from. A moment later, both look at each other, and smile, as the night seems to enfold them in its thick mantle, the moon shining down on them, isolating them from the world outside.

"Wanna know the legend of this ruin?" she asks, after she finishes her second piece of bread with jelly, and wipes delicately her pouty mouth with an embroidered handkerchief.

Donald lifts his glass, asking for another sip of the sherry, and as she pours, she starts telling in a soft voice, "according to the legend, this castle was built in the tenth century, and here lived a Norwegian princess. She married a local lord, who preferred to spend his time more in battle than looking after his properties, so she decided to take matters in her own hands."

She moves, as she is kneeling down on the blanket, and lifts her hand dramatically towards the bay below, "in order to survive without her husband, she ordered that a chain would be stretched out from one side to the other in the narrow channel between the isle of Skye and the mainland, so all ships that would sail through its waters, they must pay toll to her." She approaches Donald, who is listening her story, enthralled by it and by her.

"If they agreed, and paid the toll, she would give them access to the narrow, and they could sail away, if they did not, they would get stuck on her chains, forever," she traces his chin with fingers, and Donald starts breathing deeply.

Her green eyes, cat eyes, are looking at his, studying every inch of his face. She leans down, bringing her face closer to his, "are you willing to pay your toll tonight, Donnie?"

He gulps, staring at this fascinating siren, who had entrapped him in her charming web, and he had no wish to escape. "What is the price?" he whispers, not to undo the enchantment of the evening.

She smiles, and slowly takes her jacket off, and, once she puts it on the floor, she starts to slowly undo the buttons of her summer dress, hypnotizing him with the movement of her hands.

Once she is naked, bathed only by the moonlight, she smiles, and touches his face again, and repeats her question, "are you willing to pay your toll tonight, Donnie?"

He studies her, before him, and the pale skin covered with goose bumps, due to the cold breeze in that summer evening. He silently nods, and they both smile at each other.

She slowly lies on top of the blanket on the grass, and brings Donnie to lay beside her. Her eyes were twinkling in the night, and Donnie was hypnotized by this siren.

"Tonight, you may feast on my lips," she softly brings his head down with her hands, touching his lips with her own, and he could taste the sweetness of the sherry they had shared on her lips. She stops the kiss, and still smiles at him.

"Tonight, you may feast on my body," and slowly, very slowly, brings his hands down the pale skin she had revealed when she took off her summer dress, exposing it to Donnie's enchanted eyes. He kept staring at such beauty, and he did what any other male in his age would do when given such an offer: he lowered his head and left soft kisses over the skin she exposed.

As he feasted on the soft skin and round firm flesh in his hands, he was ecstatic. As he kissed her, he faintly noticed that she had started to work on his clothes, and somehow had managed to undo his trousers as well, exposing him to the air of the night. He shivered.

"Tonight," she said, as she kissed his neck and softly bit his earlobe, bringing a moan of pain and desire out of him, "you will plow into my fertile ground," she massaged him softly, and Donnie closed his eyes to the intense pleasure her little hands brought him.

"Annie, I..."

"Shush," she said, as she brought his body to cover hers, "my name is Mary," she whispered, and kissed him.

"But you said…" she kissed him again, effectively shutting him up.

No words were necessary for the rest of the night.


	3. Dawn

DAWN

It was the cry of the seagulls flying overhead that woke him up. Donald blinked repeatedly, and thought it strange that birds were flying on the ceiling of his bedroom. He opened his eyes fully when a bird landed close to where he lay, and started to make some noise, as this human was very close to its nest.

He looked around, and found his clothes carefully folded by his head, his glasses laying neatly over this trousers. He felt a shiver as a breeze entered the ruins, and brought the blanket closer to his body.

He sat down abruptly, as the events of the night before came to mind, sweet Annie – or was her name Mary? – and how they had laughed, talked and danced. The raven beauty had totally captivated him, and seduced him, with her stories of old and her lyrical laughter. He looks around and he is still covered by the blanket she had hidden in the ruin, but there is no evidence that the late picnic had ever happened. The picnic basket they had shared is gone. The bottle with sherry is gone.

He takes his glasses from the top of his clothes pile and puts them back on his face, and hurries to put his clothes on, rushing in the chill of the morning. It is summer, but in the highlands it is never really truly warm, and the sun has not risen yet, and there's a fine mist still in the air.

Once he's properly dressed, he folds the blanket and, after a moment of hesitation, puts it back behind the stone where she took it, and starts his search around the ruins. He calls out her name, but no one answers.

Just the seagulls flying overhead cry out in answer.

He frowns, as there is no sign of anyone but himself on the ruins, and from the top of the hill he can see the faint lights of the village of Kyleakyn. He starts to make his way back to the village.

He arrives on the small bed and breakfast he's staying with his friend, climbs the stairs to his room, and as soon as his head touches the pillows, he's asleep again.

MORNING

Donald is startled awake by heavy knocking on his door. He is a little bit groggy, and it takes some seconds for him to recognize the little bedroom he's sleeping in. He puts is glasses on, and slowly go to the door.

Donnie", calls out Jamie, "are you ok?"

Donald opens the door, and his colleague from Edinburgh Uni is at the door, looking at him with concern.

"Hi Jamie, come on in," he answers groggily, and walks back to the bed, and sits on it. His friend closes the door after himself, and studies Donald with concern, "man, you look beat, where did you go? I went dancing with Tara and you simply disappeared. Tara's friend was very disappointed."

Donald freezes, "What?"

"Yes man," says Jamie, and goes to the window, looking out to the sleepy village of Kyleakyn, "she was very disappointed that, after some minutes talking with her, you left without saying goodbye."

Donald thinks back on the events of the night before, but he's not fully grasping what his friend is saying, "that cannot be, I left with her!"

"With Martha?" his friend turns to him, and sees his surprised face, "man, you left the birdie there, alone, in a room full of predators, all eager to sniff up her skirts, are you mad?"

"Who is Martha? Her name was Annie." Says Donald.

"Man, how much did you drink last night? Karen's friend's name was Martha, Martha Jennings, from Newcastle," he sees his friend confusion, and approaches him, "are you ok man?"

Donald shakes his head, trying to put together the events of the night before. "I have no idea."

After a quick shower, both men go downstairs for breakfast, and Jamie is teasing Donald incessantly about his date with the mysterious Annie, and his lack of memory of leaving Martha alone.

The two girls arrive at the bed and breakfast, and indeed, Donald is shocked to see that the brunette who is with the tall blond is not the same one he left the pub the night before. She looks at him confused as he does not remember leaving her after standing up to collect a new round for drinks.

He apologizes, and enters again the bed and breakfast, to pay his bill, before he and Jamie leave the village to continue their trip further north. As he's signing his checkout, the owner of the place, an old villager with very kind eyes, touches his hand delicately.

"You've seen her, haven't you lad?"

He freezes, and looks at the old hag.

"Who?"

"Our Saucy Mary," the old hag says. Ducky looks at the hand touching his own, the papery like skin covering deep blue veins. He looks up at the old woman, and she smiles, "yes, you saw her, and you did much more than seeing her."

He stands up straighter, and goes around the counter, and sits beside the old woman. "Who is she?"

The old woman smiles, her mouth lacking several important teeth, but her eyes are twinkling as she looks at this good looking lad, who was seduced by their local ghost.

"She is our lady of the keep," his eyes are studying the old woman, "on summer nights, when the moon is high on the sky and the breeze is flowing over the moors, she leaves the keep and goes seeking men, young men, to keep her company for a night. If they find her favor, and if they make her happy, she releases them from her spell as soon as the morning comes," she looks down at him, smiling.

Ducky looks away, his mind lost in the memories of the night before, "what if they don't find her favor?"

"Oh, our Mary is very wicked, she will keep those who dare cross her forever tied on her chains, and no one will ever find them," the old hag leans over to him, and whispers, "but during stormy nights, if you pay attention, between the roar of thunder and the battering of the raindrops on the roofs, we can hear their moaning, forever lost, between here and there, forever chained to her keep, watching the eras pass by."

The old hag looks at this young man, and smiles, as Saucy Mary always knew how to pick them, and in nine months time, a child would be born, a child with bright blue eyes, and left at the doors of the village church.

"She mentioned something about a toll," he says softly.

"That, my lad," says the old hag, "is something that you will never know."

She taps his hand, and he looks at her, for a long time, "go, my dear boy, and always think kindly of this night. The night you've touched and you've been touched by eternity."

TODAY

"So, that's why I might not believe in supernatural, but I do have a healthy dose of respect for it." Says Ducky, walking towards the dead petty officer on the floor.

"So you never saw her again?" asks Jimmy, following his mentor and getting ready to prod him with the liver thermometer.

"No, I was told she had never even existed."

"That's a beautiful story, Ducky," says McGee, "sad, but beautiful."

"You see, the villagers in Kyleakyn explained this way, until today, the appearance of any motherless and fatherless baby in the village's church doors."

"But, in the end," asks Ziva, who stops taking pictures from the dead body, "Was she real or not?"

"I have no idea, my dear Ziva." He kneels besides the dead petty officer, "I have no idea."

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

Later that night, after a long day at work, Ducky returned to his house that he used to share with his mother and her corgis. He lit up the fire, prepared a strong tea, and went to his collection of Long Play records. He was looking for a specific one. Once he found it, he blew the dust from it, and went to the old LP player, and put the disc there.

Soft mellow fiddle music filled the air, and he sat down before the fire, took his shoes off and served the tea in a cup for himself. As the notes sharpened his senses, he closed his eyes and leaned back on his comfortable love seat, enjoying the fire and the Scottish melody filling the air.


End file.
